This blog is devoted to the poetry and other lyrical writings of Dr Karl Shuker - in particular his published volume of poetry, 'Star Steeds and Other Dreams' (CFZ Press: Bideford, 2009). Dr Karl Shuker is best known as a zoologist, cryptozoologist, and author of numerous non-fiction books and articles, but he is also a longstanding poet, as revealed and promoted by this blog.

How to purchase Star Steeds and Other Dreams

If you wish to buy this book, which is 230 pages long and is ISBN 978-1-905723-40-9, it is readily available online from its publisher, CFZ Press of Bideford, Devon, UK at http://www.cfz.org.uk/ and also from such major literary websites as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Waterstones, W H Smith, and sellers on AbeBooks to name but a few. You can also purchase a signed copy directly from me, the author - please email me at karlshuker@aol.com for full details.

Available from Amazon.com , from Amazon.co.uk , and directly from the publisher in quantities at: www.cfz.org.uk.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

It has often been said, and it is perfectly true, that each of us enters and leaves this world alone, but it is also true that many spend much of their allotted time here in solitude too, with only silence and the stars above for company.

THE SILENCE OF SOLITUDE

Within these dappled vales of SpaceMy seeking mind is found,Amid the empty pools of TimeThat softly pivot round;For silence, long and endless, hereIs e’er the only sound.

But in this plane of nothingnessMy mind can find releaseFrom human woes and human grief,For here, all failings ceaseTo be, among the silence ofThis citadel of peace.

And here, my weeping tears and sighsCan drift unseen away,For who can know my silent doomThat lingers through each day.For me, the loneliness I holdNo words could e’er convey.

Monday, 13 June 2011

Certain religious stories, such as St George and the Dragon, have generated very considerable interest down through the centuries and have become extremely well known, but there are others that have attracted much less notice, yet are no less memorable. The following story is one of these hitherto-neglected Christian legends, which has always stayed in my mind ever since I first read it many years ago, so I finally decided to retell it in verse.

So the soldier rode onwardThrough golden-leaved trees,While the hounds’ dismal howlingStill hung on the breezeLike a dream half-forgotten‘Twixt Future and Past –Yet still doomed by its makerForever to last.

Then ahead of EustaciusA white stag appeared,And the soldier’s steed trembled,Then, shivering, reared.Just as if the stag’s presenceImbued it with awe,As the hunter peered onwardsAnd then, the deer, saw.

All at once, the stag stiffened,Then fled through the trees,But Eustacius pursued it,Through clearings and lees.On he chased this white wonder,Past mountains and vales,And the morn became noontideIn forests and dales.

And as they witnessed softlyThe hunt far below,E’en the moon wept in sadness,And shrouded its glowTo give cover of darkness‘Midst shadowy gladesTo the hunted stag, wearyAs still the hounds bayed.

But the stag was now tiring,Its head dangled low,As its heart heaved and pounded,Its eyes full of woe,Till it sank down exhaustedOn carpets of dew,As the hounds’ ghastly howlingMore terrible grew.

Then Eustacius perceived it,Stretched outwards to die,As its fragile heart throbbed ‘neathThe sorrowful sky.And the stag watched the soldierWith eyes dark and mild,For it made no swift movement,Yet cried like a child.

Then a pale shaft of moonlightFell softly from Space,And its shimmering beautyLit up the deer’s face.And as all the world waited,The stag raised its head.Its mouth opened, and then, withA human voice, said:

“Why dost thou still pursuethMe long through the trees?I am Christ,” as EustaciusDropped low to his knees.For the stag was surroundedBy radiant light,Like a star incandescentThat passed from all sight

To the heavens resplendentIn Glory Divine.Then Eustacius looked up, andDrew slowly the SignOf the Cross there before him –A new saint was born,In the reincarnationOf God’s golden Dawn.

Monday, 6 June 2011

What might happen if a flock of swans somehow coalesced with a herd of horses, even if only in a half-dreaming mind? That intriguing premise was the starting point for the following word-picture – a poetical flight of imagination…in every sense!

SWANS AND HORSES

Like a phalanx borne from HeavenOn a golden drift of LoveGlides a stream of snowy shadowsFrom the cloud-worlds far aboveIn an ever-wider spiralSweeping slowly through the skies,While the lake’s reflection shimmersLike a star within their eyes,Growing brighter every secondAs their silhouettes descendTo its violescent waters,Where the ripples softly wend –Each a trembling ring of sunlight‘Ere it falls away to die,Just an iridescent nimbus‘Neath a cerulean sky.

Now the swans reside serenelyNear the sable-mantled shadeOf the melancholy willowFrom the lakeside’s dappled glade,Where the breezy zephyr murmursAs its gusty whispers coolCatch the willow’s pearly teardrops,Each a tiny silvered poolCast in deep, despondent sorrowAs the willow bows in grief,Dewdrops trickling down in torrentsFrom each slender yellow leaf.

Here the swans glide by in silence,Necks held high in regal stanceAs their eyes gaze up to HeavenWhile its darting sunbeams danceThrough their incandescent plumage,Wings held proudly o’er their backLike an arch of sparkling crescentsTipped with inky plumes of black.On they glide, past ruffling meadowsFlecked with starry trains of flowers,Blooming brightly in the shelterOf their viridescent bowers.

And across these speckled grasslandsTo the silver-spangled streamsChase a herd of snowy horsesLike a host of starlit beams,Manes caressed by breezy fingers,Like a sea of moonlit wavesSurging down across their shouldersFrom its underwater cave,As their eyes, afire and glowing,Burn with bright undying flame,While their tails toss ever skywardWith a joy that none can tame.

Soon they pass from sight and being‘Neath the woodlands’ leafy shade,And my eyes grow weak and heavy,Each with slumber overlaid.Yet as Hypnos murmurs softlyFrom the drowsy realms of Sleep,Still the horses race before meAs their flowing spirits leap‘Cross the streams and to the lakesideWhere the swans sedately gazeThrough the heavens’ golden shadow,Through the skies’ translucent haze.

And as clouds float by in silenceO’er the warm, caressing skies,Strange to say, the swans and horsesMerge as one before my eyes –And as Morpheus casts softlyDreams of slumber round my mind,Wingèd steeds ascend to Heaven,Leaving lake and streams behind.Wings spread forth, and lustrous feathersGleam and glow like rays of light,As these fair, enchanted visionsPass so swiftly from my sightTo their mellow hierarchyThat no man shall ever see.Earth is ours – a world of mortals.Theirs is Immortality.

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